


Repairs

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Annoyed Poe Dameron, Attraction, Awkward Flirting, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-07-24 16:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16178801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: All Poe ever wanted was to fix Black One in peace.





	Repairs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishonadarkstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishonadarkstar/gifts).



"You're doing that wrong."

Poe closed his eyes and counted backward from ten. It was late. He was tired. And Black One, for reasons he didn't yet understand, was not responding the way he wanted her to. Any one of those things were probably enough to put him on edge when someone was wanting to come up behind him and criticize his technique, but right now, the only thing stopping him from snapping at Matt was the fact that Leia would be very, very disappointed in him if he did.

"I didn't realize radar techs were well-versed in starship repair. Did you join my ground crew when I wasn't looking?" he asked, not as sharp as he could have been. Instead, he kept his tone devoid of anything except the blandest good humor at his disposal, the tone he took when he wanted to throw a chair but couldn't. Though he was annoyed enough that the thought of smiling nearly made him punch himself in the face, he made himself grin anyway. "What rock have you been living under? Next you're gonna tell me you won the Junior Sabers when you were thirteen or something."

"Some of us are," Matt answered. "Well-versed, that is." Somehow, he'd managed to get this far in life without learning how to parse sarcasm. It almost sucked the fun entirely out of the exercise, but not quite, not enough that Poe couldn't admire the lack of self-awareness it required for Matt to be so Matt-like. "And flying makes me ill. But for your information, I don't live under a rock."

Poe's gaze crept upward until all he saw was the wide expanse of the hangar's ceiling. "You kind of are," he pointed out, "considering this base is carved out of a cave." It was only the latest in a long line of bases the Resistance had been forced to inhabit, each more circumspect than the last, and it was enough to make anyone feel like a mole rat tunneling through the dirt in the hopes that this time, he might be safe.

Yeah, Poe didn't believe it either.

Matt just stared at him blankly, mouth slightly parted, giving the joke about as much due as it deserved. It was, if nothing else, a good mouth. Not that Poe appreciated the words that came out of it any. Black One was his baby; he knew her inside and out. There wasn't a repair he couldn't accomplish if he set his mind to it.

Except now apparently. And with company around, too. Abrasive, distracting, unfortunate company. The kind that wasn't scared to call him on it apparently.

She could be a real asshole, Black One could. And so could Matt.

And who the hell had hair that curly and blond anyway? Or walked around in that much orange when they weren't a pilot? He was an embarrassment and there was not a single reason in hell that Poe should have paid him any mind beyond the basic courtesies any of the techs deserved for all the hard work they put in on the job. Poe's people sometimes made it difficult for the technicians. This was true.

"Anyway," Matt said, having exactly none of Poe's bullshit as he jerked his head to indicate Poe's half-completed work, "you're doing that wrong. Unless you want to blow yourself up. Maybe you do. In which case you're doing great."

Now it was Poe's turn to stare. There weren't a lot of people in the Resistance who were willing to say that to Poe's face. General Organa, maybe. Okay, definitely General Organa. But even so, it remained a novelty. One that Poe found more intriguing than he should have. And if Matt was going to throw down the gauntlet like that...

"Okay, hot shot." Poe grabbed the rag he'd hung over one of the ladder's rungs that lead to the cockpit. After wiping his hands off, he tossed it and stepped aside. "Be my guest."

If he let himself think about it, which he did not, he would've been surprised that he was willing to trust Black One in anybody but his own or BB-8's hands. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure when he'd let someone else touch her. But for whatever reason, it didn't bother him to see Matt stride toward her fuselage and run his hand over her carbon-scored body.

He was gentle with her, gentler even than Poe would have been.

Poe refused to acknowledge that he appreciated that fact. He also refused to turn it into a competition, which: character growth. As Matt brushed his fingers over the exposed wires spilling from the open panel on the underside of the ship, Poe approached, peering at the slaughter from over Matt's shoulder, maybe hoping to learn something (not that he'd ever admit to it) and maybe hoping to figure out how the nerdy radar tech managed to smell so good (not that he'd ever admit to that, either).

Tensing, Matt turned his head. "What are you doing?"

Poe's heart did not start pounding more furiously in his chest. It didn't. And it absolutely didn't flip in uncomfortable ways as Matt's eyes found his.

"Trying to watch you work," Poe answered. "Or am I doing that wrong, too?"

Rolling his shoulders, Matt sighed and briefly turned his attention back to the open panel. "I don't like it."

Huffing in amusement, Poe lifted his hands and took a step or two back. Strike outs on multiple levels. That was okay. It wasn't like he should have wanted to stand so close to Matt anyway. What kind of idiot was he to want that? Shifting slightly, he angled himself so that he could at least actually see what Matt was doing. Or would be doing once he stopped staring at Poe. "I'm not gonna bite you," he said, the scrutiny too much as embarrassment burrowed under his skin and took up shop. He wasn't unfamiliar with striking out, but this was a bit much. Especially when he wasn't actually making an effort to step onto that particular smashball field anyway. Talk about a blow to a guy's ego. "Sorry."

Though Matt sniffed, he didn't seem any happier now that Poe has gotten out of his way. Poe tried not to take that as a sign of anything and shut his mouth as Matt got to work. Every once in a while, he asked for a tool and fully expected Poe to be the gopher who retrieved it for him. It was, Poe thought a little wildly, charming.

"There," Matt said finally, closing the panel with all the confidence in the galaxy that he'd fixed it correctly. But Poe was watching.

"I did exactly the same thing!" Scoffing, Poe stepped up to the panel and pulled it open again. It didn't matter that he was close enough to Matt to feel the warmth radiating from him. He was too busy being indignant. "That was literally what I was doing." Turning, he glared up at Matt. "What the hell?"

How Matt managed to look beatific through this was beyond Poe's conception, but he did. And Poe wanted to be annoyed by that. "You did that on purpose."

"Maybe."

"You're an asshole."

"Maybe that, too." But at least this time he had the good grace to blush and look abashed. That assuaged Poe's righteous indignation somewhat. "But it got your attention."

"You didn't have to--" But then Poe's brain caught up with the rest of him and he saw the correct course of action as easily as he saw the right maneuver to get him out of trouble in a dogfight with a TIE fighter. That made it easy to further invade Matt's space, space he no longer seemed to mind having invaded. Prodding Matt's sternum with his index finger (the guy was more shredded under his now grubby shirt than Poe expected), he added, "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to correct a guy's technique?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Poe narrowed his eyes. He stayed silent for as long as he could stand it. And then he grabbed Matt by the shoulders and pushed him up against the landing gears. Fisting his hands in Matt's partially unzipped coveralls, he kissed Matt, bit at his lower lip, poured all of his annoyance into it, found himself far more pleased than he had any right to be when Matt kissed him back, more deep and intense than Poe expected.

Pulling back, he realized it wasn't the worst way to end an evening.

Even got free labor out of the deal.

"Wanna grab a drink?" he asked, fingers wrapped in the orange hazard vest Matt was still wearing. Like the coveralls weren't enough.

When Matt nodded his assent, Poe pretended he wasn't as happy about it as he was.

Matt could figure it out for himself if he wanted to, but Poe wasn't planning on saying anything about it.

But he really was.


End file.
